A Picture
by Cerineli
Summary: An amber eyed boy meets a green eyed vixen. Look closely, and you will see a glimmer of seduction in her brittle eyes. Lust has taken hold, but what about the other word?


**A Picture**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own CCS, but I do own this plotline.

Summary: A picture is worth a thousand words, they say. Picture this: an amber eyed boy meets a green eyed vixen. Look closely at her, and you will see there is more than a glimmer of planned seduction in her brittle eyes.

**Prologue **

A picture is something completely different from a portrait.

In essence, they are one and the same. But the two cannot be compared--just as a flashing beam of lightning cannot be compared with the dim glow of a lightbulb.

Pictures tell stories. They tell stories of an afternoon spent on the beach, or perhaps of an afternoon spent in a musty room. The colors that are stroked delicately into the mind speak a language of their own. We are entranced, enchanted, and engrossed by a picture that tells its tale aptly and subtly. A picture can be looked at and interpereted in many different ways, and all ways are the right ways.

A portrait, on the other hand, captures something that will be gone with the soft sweep of a paintbrush. They are quick snapshots of a time past. The lush, ripe plumpness of a fresh green bud will unfurl into a leaf. A happy, auburn haired girl may become a sulky, shadowy waif tomorrow. And mellow, golden rays of sunshine become sharp, glittery shafts of light, slicing through sleepy eyelids.

Portraits evoke pangs of nostalgia. Pictures evoke curiosity and a sense of wonder.

This is a picture of seduction. The existence of anything else is entirely up to the reader. After all, a picture can be perceived in many different ways.

**One**

**'bewitched' **

The room seemed oddly airless. The soft cackle of the women sent tiny frissions of fear sliding up my spine. Everything was an indiscriminate shade of dark brown, the precise color of freshly made tea. The muted light of the lamps only heightened my fear. They mocked me; they knew I was a novice in these matters, and so they cast light onto my pale, peaked face.

Shivering, I sat down at a table and sent nervous, inquiring glances at those sitting in tables around me. Their faces were hidden by the shadows, yet I thought I saw more than one of them send an amused look in my direction.

"What'd ya like?" A slatternly woman leaned over my table. She had a hoarse, raspy voice, and judging from the frizzy gray hair, she looked to be about sixty years old.

I gulped while staring directly into her eyes. I didn't want to look anywhere else, and I especially didn't want to look down. I knew a ghastly sight would meet my eyes. This woman wore a hot pink tube top.

"I'd like some vodka," I said, making a valiant but foolish attempt to deepen my voice.

To my great discomfort and relief, she straightened and squinted at me. Then she flashed a cunning grin and clicked her teeth.

"One vodka comin' your way." She grinned again and pranced away, wiggling her hips in the most provocative manner possible.

I shuddered, but my eyes were drawn to her back as she frolicked towards the bartender. She sensed that I was watching her, and so she lifted her arms a bit. The tube top slid slightly down and I quickly averted my eyes.

I tapped my fingernails nervously on the wood while I waited for my drink. Then I glanced at my watch. I was intensely disappointed; I still had twenty minutes to go before I could leave this bar.

The woman came back to the table, her hips still circling.

"Here you go, darling." Her voice was syrupy and smoother than before. She still wore her crafty smile.

I wanted to flash a sarcastic sneer. That was what I would have done at school, when I was among all of the fraternity boys. None of them had the guts to stand up to the great and infamous Syaoran Li.

But here it was different. I did not have my cronies to protect me. I was among the low and the vile here, and I myself was a preppy, rich kid. I had to play by their game, and theirs was a nefarious, tiresome game of seduction and the occasional heartbreak.

Obviously, I was not accustomed to playing it.

So when the woman began to slide a hand along my thighs, I did not protest. Protesting was a sign of weakness. Weakness was not tolerated in this crowd.

She purred, low and deep in her throat when I closed my eyes and sat back in my chair. I tried to relax and immerse myself in the smooth rhythm of the woman's caresses, but deep down inside I felt scared and violated. I swallowed repeatedly as the woman began to move her hands higher and higher, her hands drawing close to a sensitive, pulsing area.

"Edna." The air snapped and my tight mood broke. "Stop."

My eyes flickered open when I felt the woman's hands leave my legs.

A tall, imperious woman stood in front of me. Her clothes were elegant, and they showed off her thin, airy figure. Diamond earrings dangled from her ears, and a diamond and emerald necklace sat complacently at the base of her neck. Her auburn hair was put up in a stylish bun, and her eyes gleamed green in the half-darkness.

Edna stood hastily, hitching her tube top back to its original place. "Mistress," she croaked, "I am sorry. I sincerely--"

The woman spat her words in Edna's face. "Cut the crap." She brandished a finger in Edna's face and hissed something. They had an alarming effect. Edna's leering, hungry face turned ash gray and she mumbled something to the woman. Then she picked up the platter of vodka and scurried away, her prancing walk diminished to a flurry of small, quick steps.

The woman shot a satisfied glare in Edna's direction and turned to go.

"Wait," I called after her retreating back.

She stopped and turned. I faced foward as I heard the clicks of her high-heeled shoes coming in my direction.

"Well?" Her voice was cold and high. I stared at a morning-glory shaped lamp.

My throat was dry. I cleared it and muttered, "Thank you."

For a moment she did not respond. Then I heard a soft, whispering laugh. I felt astonished, and I looked up at the woman. She stepped out of the shadows and sat down.

Her face slid into the golden light of the lamps. I suppressed a gasp. Everything about her seemed flawless, from her smooth, pale skin to her fiendishly bewitching eyes. Her cheekbones were high, and her mouth was pleasantly curved. Hauteur had shaped her face into something of ethereal.

She noticed my wonder and laughed again, this time bitterly and harshly. "My face was not made for you to ogle."

I blushed and turned my eyes away. I could feel her eyes burning my cheeks. Finally, after minutes of dead silence, I blurted, "What are you doing? Stop making me feel so uncomfortable!"

She laughed again. "You're not so bad-looking yourself. Better looking than many, and...dare I say it? Sexier than most."

I flushed again. Her laugh dug into me. I felt its scorn. "Pink is for women and girls, boy. Get that color out of your cheeks," she commanded contemptfully.

Flustered, I glanced at the watch. To my relief, there were only five minutes left. I cleared my throat and stared down at the table. "Thank you for getting that woman's hands off me," I mumbled. " I need to go now," I continued, happy and unhappy that I had to leave.

"No need to mumble, _dear_ boy," she whispered. Startled, I looked up. Her eyes were glittering, and her cheeks were dusted with a becoming shade of pink. She tilted her head so that the diamonds caught the light, and her eyes trailed down to the opening of my collared shirt. "You should visit me tomorrow," she said, her eyes fixed upon the top of my chest.

It was becoming unbearably hot in the room. I stood up hurriedly and blundered away, not caring who I ran into. I had to get away from her.

In the lobby, my hands flew through the coat closet, searching for my coat. I had just pulled it on when I sensed her presence. Her hand rested briefly on my shoulder. I quivered all over as her breath rolled into my ear. "My name is Sakura," she whispered. I took in the exotic scent of her perfume. Then I bolted, keeping the memory of her scent for a later moment.

_My name is Sakura. _

_-----------_

Suzu stirred beside me.

"What's wrong, Syaoran?" she murmured quietly, throwing an arm over my bare chest. "You've seemed preoccupied this entire evening."

In the darkness, I stared up at her. Suzu had been my girlfriend for two months. Would it be fair to break up with her for a woman I had just met tonight?

I stared up into her cerulean blue eyes. Swallowing, I reached up and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, running my hand through the length of it.

I was infatuated with another woman, couldn't she see that? I didn't want to do it...she was too precious to hurt...but she was too good for me...a boy who had succumbed to his lust...I had to do this.

"Suzu, we need to talk," I said. My voice sounded hollow. I was going to throw away two months of sunbeams and intimacy.

She reached over and turned on the lamp. I was mocked again by the light it cast over me. Light would now reveal the scene of a wrenching heartbreak.

"Suzu...I...you..." I choked out. The corners of my eyes burned and I hid my face into my pillow.

She stroked the length of my back. I almost recoiled, remembering the way the old woman had stroked my thighs. Then Suzu put her hand on my shoulder and whispered into my ear, "It's ok, Syaoran. I understand what you're trying to do, and I won't hold you back. Tell me..." her she hesitated, "Tell me why."

I sat up. "I don't deserve you, Suzu. I don't deserve your kindness," I cried over and over again.

Suzu pushed me down onto the bed. She flipped her light brown hair over her shoulder. "Fine," she snapped, "don't tell me why. But I think I already know. Some of your fraternity brothers told me--they dared you to go to 'The Fragrant Blossom', that notorious drinking house. How could you, Syaoran? You're the leader of your fraternity; you're supposed to be handing out dares, not doing them. I'd have thought that your girlfriend meant more to you than your pride." Her eyes were blazing with unchecked anger. Then she spoke the sentence that hurt me the most. "You're right. I am too good for you."

She gathered her clothing and jerked her shirt on. Then she ran to the closet and pulled on her coat. Without a backward glance, she stomped to the door and opened it.

"By the way, Syaoran," she said quietly, pausing for a moment. "You're the one who got dumped!"

The door slammed.

----------

Eriol hooted with laughter. "She dumped you?"

I shot him a death glare. "Yes."

Eriol snorted and began to laugh again. I groaned and buried my face into my salad.

Takashi patted me on the back. "It's ok, Syaoran. The fraternity's proud of you, you're a true leader. We thought that you'd back out when we dared you to go to 'The Fragrant Blossom'."

"Yeah," Eriol chimed, "some leaders only give out dares. They're too chicken to do the dares themselves. You've proved yourself, that's for sure."

Takashi pushed gently at my forehead, and I sat up. Bits of lettuce and tomatoes were lodged in the roots of my hair. I wiped gobs of Caesar salad dressing off my face.

Eriol grinned and dug an elbow into Takashi's ribs. "Bet he wishes Suzu were here to lick all the salad dressing off him, eh?"

I threw my platter of salad into Eriol's face. "Fuck off," I cursed.

The two of them stopped laughing.

I smiled with satisfaction. "Frat meeting this afternoon. I'll give you all the details of my little...escapade." I stood up and sauntered away, out of the cafe. Smirking, I knew their faces were aroused with curiosity.

Two blocks away, though, I pounded my head on a brick wall stained by graffiti. People passing by stopped to stare. Why was a well-dressed, preppy, rich kid pounding his head on the wall?

I'll tell them why. Let me recount the events of the night. On a fraternity dare, I went to the local nightclub. I got harrassed by a slattern. I met a woman that I can't stop thinking about. I got dumped by my girlfriend. Oh yes...did I mention the fact that I'm not really the sex king everyone thinks I am?

I looked up and wandered onto the street again. Something caught my eye...a silky cloak of milk chocolate hair..._Suzu_...

She was walking across the street, wearing a pair of blue tinted sunglasses. She had on a tight black tank top and a short, azure colored miniskirt. High heeled white stilettos covered the calves that I knew so well.

There were two things wrong with the image--first, it was the middle of winter, a season where tank tops and miniskirts do not belong. And second, there was a guy walking next to her, a guy that wasn't me.

I watched, hungry and angry. She whispered something in his ear; he laughed and hugged her even closer to him. She snuggled under his overcoat and rested her head on his chest. He pressed a kiss to her hair.

Cliched as this may sound, the two of them looked so in love.

My staring caught Suzu's eye. She looked up and her gaze bored into my eyes. I looked away, stung by the indifference and contempt.

I told myself that it didn't matter. The lie seeped into my heart. Then I realized, no matter how hard I tried to suppress it, I could not deny two things. One, it did matter to me that Suzu was with someone else, especially while I was fresh out of our breakup.

The other thing made my heart shrivel. I knew Sakura meant trouble for me.

----------

**Author's Note: **Should I change the rating? Maybe I should...this story is rated "T" for language, sensuality, and some sexual content. It's nothing explicit, but it's still there. The stuff in this chapter is a sample of what is to come later, but there's absolutely, definitely no lemon. So...yeah...tell me what you guys think.This is my first story...anyway, thanks for reading!

_Cerineli _


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